


Chocolate Kisses

by staticfiction



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, It's a lot of kissing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, shameless self-indulgent fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 00:14:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16565882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticfiction/pseuds/staticfiction
Summary: Written for #day6writersnet Valentines Day Challenge 2018 Kisses. Lots and lots of kisses. There is no plot. Just fluff. Pure, unadulterated, warm and fuzzy fluff.





	1. Dowoon

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “I don’t mind.” | staring at the other’s lips, trying not to kiss them, before giving in

Dowoon is usually lost for words. That’s his thing. That’s his deal. That’s one of the many demons he has to overcome in order to function as a human being on this Earth. With you, it’s always so much worse. His heart flutters and his breathing skips—it’s embarrassingly middle school level crushing and it eats away at his Taciturn Image.

At least there’s Tory, his pet dog, to act as a buffer between you two. He’s brought his cat, too. Likewise, you brought your pets as well, two cats you and Dowoon rescued from a shelter.

“I’m not good at this,” he admits. It’s been an hour of silence, just the two of you watching your little family of pets laze around the park. “It’s quiet. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind,” you tell him. “I like that I’m used to it. Quiet is good.”

“What are you thinking about?” he asks. The two of you, always thinking, always doing things together without really doing it  _ together _ . It’s such a comfortable relationship—yes, Dowoon thinks of it as such though he hasn’t said it out loud yet. He should ask you, if you felt the same. But how?

“I’m thinking about my cats.”

“Eh?”

“They don’t ask for much,” you say. “Just that fact that they’re becoming less nervous and more willingly playful around me is a good thing. It’s one of the best feelings, isn’t it? I feel like it’s their way of saying they choose me as I am, the way I love them as they are. Not asking for anything much or at all, just allowing ourselves to be each other to be just as we are. To be able to feel safe like that, it’s something. Cats are not complicated at all, I think. They don’t ask for much, do they? Just a place to live, water, food, a cat box—that’s enough. And for me, having them around is also enough. No need to talk about having goals or doing things. One of them likes to be outside, we go outside. The other just wants to sleep and that’s fine. Whatever we have to offer each other, that’s all we need. Like if it will never be more than this, it would still be enough.”

You’re looking at him, and he doesn’t know what to do. His eyes drop down to your lips—have been doing so the whole time you were talking about, of all things, your pets. His heart is soaring.

“Did I say too much?” you ask with a laugh.

Dowoon shakes his head. He rather likes the sound of your voice. Loves the rarity of your talkativeness, loves that it’s with him you choose to share it with. What he feels next is more than simply a twinge of nervous anticipation. It’s a feeling he can’t hold back anymore even if he tried. Slowly, carefully, he leans closer to you. If silence could be loud, then that’s what it sounds like as your lips touch. How simple it is, when all that’s left is the moment. The now, the warmth of your kiss and the sweet taste of something that could be so much more.

But if it will never be more than this, Dowoon still finds it to be more than good enough.

 


	2. Wonpil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Cross my heart and hope to die.” | slowly letting their fingers twine together while kissing softly

There’s a park behind the museum that not a lot of people know about. You and Wonpil spend your free afternoons there, laying on a picnic blanket and staring at the clear blue sky. He likes to sing and you love listening to him while you paint. Today, you’re both just lying there on your backs watching the afternoon sky shift through an unblemished spectrum of colors. This one’s your favorite, a neon corrugated sunset full of deep pinks and purples.

When you turn to Wonpil, he’s looking at you with that maddeningly melting smile. “You look pretty.”

There’s never enough air in the world for this. You turn back to the sky and pretend not to have heard him.

“Cross my heart and hope to die, you’re pretty.”

You feel the waft of air brush the side of your hand and your cheek—the warmth of him heating the space next to you. Now, Wonpil is there. Right  _ there _ . And you’re acutely aware of him now. You shudder, self-consciously. As an artist, it’s you looking at things, never the one being  _ looked at _ . Unlike Wonpil, who stood on stage with the spotlights focused on him.

You’re inundated with the odd notion that after years of black and white, of motionless drab, your entire world is suddenly about to begin to spin in full color.

Gingerly, the edges of his fingers graze against the side of your hand and your eyes flutter toward him. He’s no longer smiling, and the intensity in his eyes stagger you. He leans forward. So close that if you stretch up just an inch you’ll close that gap. But he doesn’t move, and neither do you.

Instead, his pinky curls around yours. Slowly at first, and tentative like a flower rousing to bloom. He has his heart on his hand, you think. Wonpil’s tattoo always fascinated you, Wonpil fascinated you. He wears his heart on his hand, literally, and now here he is waiting for you to take hold of it.

You tilt your head up, his lips come down on yours, and the rest of the world slips away. There’s nothing else but his pianist fingers twining around yours,  _ my heart is in your hands now _ . And this kiss, it doesn’t feel like it could ever end.

Even when he pulls away, it doesn’t feel like an end. It feels like a start.

When you open your eyes, you think: you’ve never seen the sky like this. Never seen Wonpil with his eyes shining bright and heated with  _ something _ . If he can hear your heart now, he might laugh at how silly you are attempting a song. But that’s how it feels like. Your heart is singing, telling him you’ll give him everything.

He squeezes your hand, and you lift them up and place a kiss on his knuckles.

“So pretty,” he whispers. “So pretty and lying here with me.”

“ _ You _ ’re the pretty one,” you say. “So pretty.”

He laughs, and it sounds like a hiccup it’s so cute. “Why, thank you.”

The pinks and the purples turn into red and violets, and just like that the sun disappears down the horizon. But you’re still here, both of you, waiting for moonrise and the new spectrum of hues.

 


	3. Young K

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It can wait until tomorrow.” | when one person’s face is scrunched up, and the other one kisses their lips/nose/forehead

Younghyun thinks he could get used to this, to perfect nights at your apartment with just the two of you in pyjamas, just being together in each other’s immediate spaces. He’s laying on the sofa watching anime and you’re on sitting on the floor with your laptop on the coffee table and papers strewn about. There’s nowhere he’d rather be than here with you, with his heart beating, saying he could be falling.

He watches you from the corner of his eye, adoring the way you lose yourself in fierce concentration. How many times have you not noticed him join you at your library table when you’re in the middle of studying? Younghyun relishes these moments, when he can rest his eyes on you without you turning away to hide. You’ve always been so beautiful in his eyes.

He calls out your name, softly at first. Then a little louder again. And again until you regain awareness of your surroundings, blinking rapidly before turning to him.

“What is it?” There’s a pleased lilt in your voice despite the interruption. You lean back and rest your weight against the sofa.

“Are you going to take much longer?” he asks, leaning toward you and tilting his head until his midnight hair falls over his eyes.

You draw his fringe away, parting them like curtains to reveal the sunshine behind. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I really need to get these lab reports done by tomorrow.”

He scrunches his nose and pouts. “But it’s Valentine’s Day.”

“I know that,” you soothe, chastely kissing his nose and his pouted lips. “I’m so sorry. The only dating I can do now is of these rocks, I’m afraid. There are no holidays in science.”

He laughs, despite himself. Isn’t this precisely why he loves you? Pushing forward still, he presses his nose just underneath your ear and breathes you in. “I know. I’m sorry. This is good enough for me. I won’t bother you anymore. I promise.”

He lets you go back to your work, and he presses play on the episode he’s watching. But he’s not really watching, barely invested in the adventure these characters are about to set sail for. He’s too aware of you, especially more so when he knows he shouldn’t be. But if this all he gets, then there’s no other way he’ll have this.  _ This _ , feeling like this, is just right. You are enough.

Minutes into this episode, he’s almost come to terms with having to share you for the night. That’s when he notices the shifting and the moving, and then you’re climbing into the soft cushions with him.

“I thought you said you had work to do?” he teases, scrunching his nose at you again. His arm finds its way around your shoulders, curls around you so you can rest your head on his chest and lay against him.

“It can wait until tomorrow,” you murmur, seeking more of his warmth as he pulls a blanket over the both of you. “There’s a new season of that show we like. We can watch that, if you want to.”

“There are other things we can do,” he offers cheekily.

“I’m already nice and warm I’m not getting up to make you a midnight snack.”

He laughs, kisses your hair, and holds you closer. So close, he’s never letting you go.

All of  _ this _ , he can most definitely get used to.

 


	4. Jae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wow” | a huge smile on face(s) when the kiss ends

No one ever intends to fall in love. Jae wasn’t even searching for answers, wasn’t looking for anyone, wasn’t even thinking it was a possibility until one day he was seeing you in a different light and nothing was the same. To this day, he doesn’t know how or why but you insist there doesn’t have to be a reason to fall in love. Sometimes, it just happens.

Suddenly you’re flying to the moon and there’s nothing you can do about it.

How else can you explain why you’re both out on the roofdeck of your building, dining on takeout burgers, sitting on a plastic picnic set, and listening to Nat King Cole on vinyl on an ancient gramophone you bought from a junk shop as a gift for him.

To be fair, he bought you a bouquet tonight. A bouquet of cupcakes, you almost lost your mind. Now you’ve convinced him to slow dance with you because why not? After all, you’ve both decided to buy into the system. Do the whole Valentine’s Day thing. But your way, naturally.

“I have a joke,” Jae says as you’re swaying awkwardly to the music. “It’s a really good one, too.”

Those never go well. “I’m a willing victim. Let’s have it.”

“Okay, but you gotta set me up for it. It’s a knock-knock joke. Say knock-knock first.”

You look up at him—always craning your head in odd angles just to look up at him—at eyes unencumbered by those glasses he hides behind. This is potentially a disaster but he looks so excited, so thrilled to make you laugh. So you go, “Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

You wait. And wait. And wait.

And then once the confusion has cleared, you get the joke and fall into his chest in a fit of laughter. “That’s the worst joke ever,” you wheeze. Please God, don’t ever let this moment end.

“And yet you put up with me,” Jae muses out loud, hands coming up to warm your ears. “Why?”

Through the tears of laughter in your eyes, you gaze up lovingly at him. “That’s because I love you, you weirdo.”

Jae blinks. “You...love me?”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I guess that’s it. What else would it be?”

He leans down and tilts your chin up. “You love me,” he squeals. “That’s awesome. Because I love you, did you know? I love you.” His are lips so close to yours that every time he speaks your lips touch.

“You’re so weird. I can’t believe I’m in love with you.”

“Me, too. I can’t believe you’re in love with me.”

That whisper brings your lips together. And again. And again. A sweet kiss neither of you are in a hurry to end. Sweetness, indeed. Kissing, for kissing’s sake. He reaches out for you, a hand skimming a touch over your cheek, and his heart meeting yours halfway. Who knew it could feel this way? Like all the dreams you’ve saved for a rainy day are finally coming true. It’s a veritable amount of emotion that has you both laughing like crazy.

“Wow,” he breathes when you break apart. A huge grin spreads across his face, his eyes still closed, savoring the moment.

“Of all the people in the world, it just had to be you,” you tease.

“You should be so lucky. Professional hottie, at your service.”

 


	5. Sungjin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you sure?” | when one person says “move away if you don’t want this” and the other person moves in for the kiss; when one stops the kiss to whisper “I’m sorry, are you sure you—” and they answer by kissing them more

“Move away if you don’t want this.”

Of course,  _ this _ is what Sungjin says the moment you finally have him alone and all to yourself. You have him pinned against the wall with what little strength you have against him, and he’s asking  _ you _ if this is what  _ you _ want. Silly man, you’ve wanted him the moment you laid your eyes on him.

And now you’re coming for him.

You have a good fistful of his hoodie in your hands, and his body heat is doing strange things to you, singeing you everywhere. So close like this, you’re acutely aware of the fresh scent of laundry detergent and soap on him and you allow yourself to bury your face into his strong chest.

Sungjin is still not touching you. He never does. Because he doesn’t trust himself with you.

“I’m sorry, are you sure you—”

You lift yourself on tiptoes until your lips find the underside of his jaw and place a soft kiss there. Then another. And another. And another until you’re tracing his jawline with your lips. And another still, until you’re kissing him underneath his ear. He let you, you know this. He’d closed his eyes and exposed the long column of his neck. Should it frighten you or thrill you, how much control he concedes to you, when maintaining control is one of his bigger flaws?

“I’m serious,” he says, letting out a ragged breath. “This is a very litigious society, I really need you to say an enthusiastic yes out loud if you—”

You shut him up with a kiss on his chin before saying, “Yes.  _ Yes, out loud _ . With exclamation points. How many do you need? Yes, Sungjin. I want this. Just kiss me,  _ please _ .”

As if you weigh nothing in the simple power of his arms, Sungjin shifts your positions so now you’re trapped between a solid wall and a solid wall of  _ man _ . The action takes your breath away—it’s okay, you don’t really need to breathe. You want this. You tell him as much. Hands on your hips, he lifts you so you wrap your legs around his waist.  _ Then _ he kisses you. His big guitarist hands cradle your face as his lips descend upon yours. Warm. Passionate.  _ Teasing _ . All this time, you’ve known Sungjin to be restrained and proper, but nothing is  _ restrained  _ or _ proper _ about the way his lips are on yours or the way his hands are now exploring places a perfect gentleman’s hands  _ shouldn’t be _ .

In this moment he doesn’t hold back. All the floodgates are open. It’s an unstoppable feeling—a natural disaster that will not apologize for leaving ruin in its wake.

This much wanting doesn’t take you by surprise. But this much  _ needing _ ? This knowing that all you will ever want is to be with him shakes you to your core, makes you feel exposed and vulnerable. The realization strikes you, raw and uncomplicated:

You love him

You _ love  _ him _. _

Of course, you do.  _ Of course _ . For every part of you that insisted on treading water, another part of you dove deep just to prove you don’t need to breathe. He’d found a way inside your heart, filled you up so you’re drowning in the ocean that is him. He is the light at the surface of the water leading you home.

You only get one chance, and you tug at his chest, pull away to swallow a breath. You choke on the emotion, paralyzed at having to admit to  _ having _ emotions. “Sungjin, I—”

“—I know.” He runs the tip of his nose down your cheek and presses a kiss—the kind that puts all other kisses to shame, a kiss that’s just invented kissing—on your lips. “I love you, too.”

 


End file.
